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Asp. I do believe thee better than my sense.
Oh, I must go. Farewell!
[Dies.
Amin. She swoons! Aspatia! Help! for
Heav'n's sake, water!

Such as may chain life ever to this frame.
Aspatia, speak! What, no help yet? I fool!
I'll chafe her temples: Yet there's nothing
stirs:

Some hidden power tell her, Amintor calls,
And let her answer me! Aspatia, speak!
I've heard, if there be any life, but bow
The body thus, and it will shew itself.
Oh, she is gone! I will not leave her yet.
Since out of justice we must challenge nothing,
I'll call it mercy, if you'll pity me, [years,
Ye heavenly powers! and lend, for some few
The blessed soul to this fair seat again.
No comfort comes; the gods deny me too!
I'll bow the body once again. Aspatia!
The soul is fled for ever; and I wrong
Myself, so long to lose her company.
Must I talk now? Here's to be with thee,
love!
[Kills himself.

Enter Servant.

Serv. This is a great grace to my lord, to have the new king come to him: I must tell him he is entering. Oh, Heav'n! Help, help!

Enter Lysippus, Melantius, Calianax, Cleon,
Diphilus, and Strato.

Lys. Where's Amintor.
Serv. Oh, there, there.60
Lys. How strange is this!
Cal. What should we do here?

Mel. These deaths are such acquainted
things with me,

That yet my heart dissolves not. May I stand
Stiff here for ever! Eyes, call up your tears!
This is Amintor: Heart! he was my friend;
Melt; now it flows. Amintor, give a word
To call me to thee.
Amin. Oh!

[Oh, thy arms Mel. Melantius calls his friend Amintor. Are kinder to me than thy tongue! Speak, speak!

Amin. What?

[sounds

Mel. That little word was worth all the That ever I shall hear again.

Diph. Oh, brother!

Here lies your sister slain; you lose yourself
In sorrow there.

Mel. Why, Diphilus, it is

A thing to laugh at, in respect of this:
Here was my sister, father, brother, son:
All that I had! Speak once again: What
Lies slain there by thee?

Amin. 'Tis Aspatia.
My last is said. Let me give up my
Into thy bosom.

[youth

soul

[Dies.

Cal. What's that? what's that? Aspatia!
Mel. I never did

Repent the greatness of my heart till now:
It will not burst at need.

Cal. My daughter dead here too! And you have all fine new tricks to grieve; but I ne'er knew any but direct crying.

Mel. I am a prattler; but no more.
[Offers to kill himself.

Diph. Hold, brother.
Lys. Stop him.

the emendation and comment of the ingenious Mr. Seward.-Long before I received his thoughts upon this passage, I had substituted with less variation from the text:

The world wants limits to excuse thy loss.

¿. e. Were the world ever so wide and large, the loss of thee is so great, that its whole vastidity, as Shakespeare says, would not be sufficient to excuse, or compensate for it. I have adopted my friend's conjecture into the text, because I would be always willing to shew a diffidence of my own poor efforts. The readers will have the benefit of both our conjectures. Mr. Theobald. We have inserted these gentlemen's conjectures, lest the omission of them might be thought unjust; but cannot allow propriety in either. From Mr. Theobald's alteration we dissent, because limits is so very different from lines, and from the same reasoning we object to Mr. Seward's word expiate. Our Authors were often defective in their measure, often redundant; and we find this line less exceptionable than multitudes which might be instanced. With respect to the word lines, the vowel u was formerly used for the consonant v; and the vowel u being inverted (a very common error at the press) appears to be an n; hence, then, we derive the word lines for lines.

60 Stra. Oh, there, there.] We cannot believe, our Poets intended these words to be spoken by Strato. Strato is following Lysippus into the room, yet is the first to give information of what that prince must have seen before him. The speech appears to us to belong to the Serrant; to whom therefore we have assigned it.

Diph. Fie! how unmanly was this offer in Does this become our strain?

[you; Cal. I know not what the matter is, but I am grown very kind, and am friends with you. You have given me that among you will kill me quickly; but I'll go home, and live as long as I can.

Mel. His spirit is but poor, that can be kept
From death for want of weapons.
Is not my hand a weapon sharp enough
To stop my breath? or, if you tie down those,

61

I vow, Amintor, I will never eat,
Or drink, or sleep, or have to do with that
That may preserve life! This I swear to keep.
Lys. Look to him tho', and bear those
bodies in.

May this a fair example be to me,

To rule with temper: For, on lustful kings,61
Unlook'd-for, sudden deaths from Heav'n are

sent;

But curst is he that is their instrument.

[Exeunt omnes.

For, on lustful kings.] Mr. Rymer has very justly remarked in his Criticisms on Tragedy, that as the moral is a lesson on the dangers attending incontinence, the play ought to take its name from the King: Whereas the whole distress of the story lying on Aspatia being abandoned, and the gross injury done to Amintor, the moral, that we have, is in no kind to the purpose. Amintor is every where, indeed, condemning himself for his perfidy to his betrothed mistress; and inculcating, that the Heavens are strict in punishing him for that crime; and so we have another moral in the body of the fable. Mr. Theobald.

Mr. Rymer and Mr. Theobald concur again in blaming our Authors for making the title of the play relate to the distress of Aspatia, and the moral at the close only to the ill consequences of vice in kings. But these gentlemen did not remember, that good writers have frequently avoided giving their plays a name which might forestall the event, and open too much of the main plot: Thus, Venice Preserv'd, or the Plot Discover'd, has been much blamed for discovering the plot too soon. Whereas many of Shakespeare's and our Author's plays take their names from some character or incident that gives not the least insight into the main design. Mr. Seward.

We cannot help owning, that, in our opinion, there is more justice in the remark of Ryiner and Theobald, than in that of Mr. Seward.

PHILASTER;

OR,

LOVE LIES A-BLEEDING.

The Commendatory Verses by Lovelace, Stanley, and Herrick, speak of Fletcher as sole Author of this Play; those by Earle, of Beaumont. It is supposed, however, to have been wrote conjunctively. The first edition we find, was printed in 1628. This was one of the plays performed at the Old Theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields, when the women acted alone; a prologue for it was then wrote by Mr. Dryden. In the reign of Charles II. some alterations were made in this play, by George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham; when it was entitled, "The Restoration, or Right will take Place;" but, some writers say it was never brought on the stage. In 1695, Mr. Settle wrote a new fourth and fifth act to it, with which it was then performed. In 1673, Philaster, after having been suffered to lie many years dormant, was again introduced to the stage, with some few alterations, by George Colman, Esq. when that excellent performer, Mr. William Powell, made his first appearance, in the character of Philaster.

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from the king to attend here. Besides, it was boldly published, that no officer should forbid any gentleman that desire to attend and

hear.

Cler. Can you guess the cause?

An old wanton lady, or croane.] We find this character in all the editions, but Mr. Theobald's.

It was boldly published.] This adverb can have no sort of propriety here. What boldness is there in publishing an order from the king, that no gentleman or lady should be refused ad

mittance?

Dion. Sir, it is plain, about the Spanish prince, that's come to marry our kingdom's heir, and be our sovereign.

Thra. Many, that will seem to know much, say, she looks not on him like a maid in love. Dion. Oh, Sir, the multitude (that seldom know any thing but their own opinions) speak that they would have; but the prince, before his own approach, receiv'd so many confident messages from the state, that I think she's resolv'd to be rul'd.

Cle. Sir, it is thought, with her he shall enjoy both these kingdoms of Sicily and Calabria.

Dion. Sir, it is, without controversy, so meant. But 'twill be a troublesome labour for him to enjoy both these kingdoms, with safety, the right heir to one of them living, and living so virtuously; especially, the people admiring the bravery of his mind, and lamenting his injuries.

Cle. Who? Philaster?

Dion. Yes; whose father, we all know, was by our late king of Calabria unrighteously depos'd from his fruitful Sicily. Myself drew some blood in those wars, which I would give my hand to be wash'd from

Cle. Sir, my ignorance in state policy will not let me know why, Philaster being heir to one of these kingdoms, the king should suffer him to walk abroad with such free liberty.

Dion. Sir, it seems your nature is more constant than to enquire after state news. But the king, of late, made a hazard of both the kingdoms, of Sicily and his own, with offering but to imprison Philaster. At which the city was in arins, not to be charm'd down by any state-order or proclamation, till they saw Philaster ride through the streets pleas'd, and without a guard; at which they threw their hats, and their arms from them; some to make bonfires, some to drink, all for his

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Dion Marry, I think she is one whom the state keeps for the agents of our confederate princes. She'll cog and lie with a whole army, before the league shall break: Her name is common through the kingdom, and the trophies of her dishonour advanced beyond Hercules' pillars. She loves to try the several constitutions of mens' bodies; and, indeed, has destroyed the worth of her own body, by making experiment upon it, for the good of the commonwealth.

Cle. She's a profitable member.

La. Peace, if you love me! You shall see these gentlemen stand their ground, and not

court us.

What if they

Gal. What if they should? Meg. What if they should? La. Nay, let her alone should? Why, if they should, I say they were never abroad. What foreigner would do so? It writes them directly untravelled. Gal. Why, what if they be? Meg. What if they be? La. Good madam, let her go on. they be? Why, if they be, I will justify, they cannot maintain discourse with a judicious lady, nor make a leg, nor say 'excuse

me.'

What if

mittance? I make no doubt but it is an error of the press, and that the original word was what I have substituted for it. Mr. Seward.

Mr. Seward, therefore, reads loudly; but as we see not the least reason for such an alteration, we have followed the old copies.

3 Peace, if you love me.] I have made a transposition in the speakers here, from the following accurate criticism of Mr. Seward. Mr. Theobald.

The character given of the last of these three ladies so exactly suits Megra, and all the 'speeches which the anonymous lady speaks, her excessive fondness for the courtship of men, and of foreigners in particular, are so entirely in her strain; that I am persuaded, she has 'been unjustly deprived of them. It is not the custom of any good writer to give a long and distinguishing character of, and to make a person the chief speaker in any scene, who is a mere cypher in the whole play besides: Particularly, when there is another in the same scene, to whom both the character and the speeches exactly correspond. I should guess it to have 'been some jumble of the players; she, who acted Megra, having given up so much of her 'part to initiate some younger actress. The entrance should have been thus regulated:

Enter Galatea, a lady, and Megra.

And all the speeches of the two latter transposed.'

Mr. Seward.

Had Mr. Seward been altering this play for representation, his right to make this transposition would certainly be allowable, but is not as an editor. It was, however, necessary to mention his conjecture. The person here speaking is doubtless the old wanton lady, or cróny, whose character is left out of the drama in Mr. Theobald's edition.

Gal. Ha, ha, ha!

La. Do you laugh, madam? Dion. Your desires upon you, ladies. La. Then you must sit beside us. Dion. I shall sit near you then, lady. La. Near me, perhaps: But there's a lady indures no stranger; and to me you appear a very strange fellow.

Meg. Methinks, he's not so strange; he would quickly be acquainted. Thra. Peace, the king.

Enter King, Pharamond, Arethusa,
and train.

King. To give a stronger testimony of love
Than sickly promises (which commonly
In princes find both birth and burial [Sir,
In one breath) we have drawn you, worthy
To make your fair endearments to our daugh-

ter,

And worthy services known to our subjects, Now lov'd and wonder'd at. Next, our intent, To plant you deeply, our immediate heir, Both to our blood and kingdoms. For this lady,

(The best part of your life, as you confirm me, And I believe) though her few years and sex Yet teach her nothing but her fears and blushes, Desires without desire, discourse and knowledge

Only of what herself is to herself,

Make her feel moderate health; and when she sleeps,

In making no ill day, knows no ill dreams.
Think not, dear Sir, these undivided parts,
That must mould up a virgin, are put on
To shew her so, as borrow'd ornaments,
To speak her perfect love to you, or add
An artifical shadow to her nature:
No, Sir; I boldly dare proclaim her, yet
No woman. But woo her still, and think her
modesty

A sweeter mistress than the offer'd language
Of any dame, were she a queen, whose eye
Speaks common loves and comforts to her ser-

vants.

Last, noble son (for so I now must call you)
What I have done thus public, is not only
To add a comfort in particular

To you or me, but all; and to confirm
The nobles, and the gentry of these kingdoms,
By oath to your succession, which shall be
Within this month at most.

Thra. This will be hardly done.
Cle. It must be ill done, if it be done.
Dion. When 'tis at best, 'twill be but half
done, whilst

So brave a gentleman's wrong'd and flung off.
Thra. I fear.

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To thank your royal father; and thus far,
To be my own free trumpet. Understand,
Great king, and these your subjects, mine that
must be,

(For so deserving you have spoke me, Sir,
And so deserving I dare speak myself)
To what a person, of what eminence,
Ripe expectation, of what faculties,
Manners and virtues, you would wed your
kingdoms:

4

[try! You in me have your wishes. Oh, this counBy more than all my hopes I hold it happy; Happy, in their dear memories that have been Kings great and good; happy in yours, that is; And from you (as a chronicle to keep Your noble name from eating age) do I Open myself, most happy. Gentlemen, Believe me in a word, a prince's word, There shall be nothing to make up a kingdom Mighty, and flourishing, defenced, fear'd, Equal to be commanded and obey'd, But through the travels of my life I'll find it, And tye it to this country. And I vow My reign shall be so easy to the subject, That ev'ry man shall be his prince himself, And his own law (yet I his prince and law.) And, dearest lady, to your dearest self (Dear, in the choice of him whose name and lustre

Must make you more and mightier) let me say, You are the blessed'st living; for, sweet princess,

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You shall enjoy a man of men, to be Your servant; you shall make him yours, for whom

Great queens must die.

Thra. Miraculous!

Cle. This speech calls him Spaniard, being nothing but a large inventory of his own recommendations.

Enter Philaster.

Dion. I wonder what's his price? For certainly

He'll sell himself, he has so prais'd his shape. But here comes one more worthy those large speeches,

Than the large speaker of them.

Let me be swallow'd quick, if I can find,
In all th' anatomy of yon man's virtues,
One sinew sound enough to promise for him,
He shall be constable.

By this sun, he'll ne'er make king
Unless it be for trifles, in my poor judgment.
Phi. Right noble Sir, as low as my obe-
dience,

And with a heart as loyal as my knee,
beg your favour.

I

• Open myself most happy.] Mr. Seward reads, happy.

King. Rise; you have it, Sir.

Do I opine it [this country] in myself mast

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